IDIOT
by Shannon Vega
Summary: As suggested by a wonderful prompt on the swtor kink meme site, a fanfic fix for the Theran Cedrax/F! Jedi C. romance. Theran has a change of heart and does something about it. Rating may go up as story continues.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, Star Wars: The Old Republic, or any of the characters included in this story from the gameplay or mythology of Star Wars. I am making absolutely no money from this. I am writing this for fun.

Author's Note: This was inspired by a wonderful prompt on the swtor kink_meme site. Warning, this contains spoilers for the JC's conversations/relationship with Theran Cedrax, so stop reading if you don't want to be spoiled. Still here? Good. Basically, I agree that Theran's throwing over my poor JC for Holiday was messed up in the worst way. So, as per the request, I'm fixing it. Enjoy. Oh, and please, no pitchforks or burning tires launched in my general direction.

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**"IDIOT"**

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**Chapter One**

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Theran Cedrax swept a hand back through his copper-blond hair, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at his latest project. It just wasn't coming together. Any other time he would seek out the Consular and ask her to play muse. But—things had changed. He could hear Holiday flitting about, jabbering about something or another with her breathy, flirty tone. But today her voice set his teeth on edge. Not that he didn't adore Holiday—she after all was unique and beautiful and completely devoted to him in an almost pathological way. But she wasn't real.

He groaned, wiping his hands down his face and glancing back towards the hallway that ran through the lower deck. He wasn't proud of how things had ended with Mairre—she had certainly said all the right things to make him feel better about, in effect, leaving her for a hologram. And then she'd vanished upstairs, presumably to tend to Jedi business.

And he'd been so distracted by something that Holiday had been saying that he hadn't even wished her a good day as she'd left. Now, though, he began to wonder if he might have been a touch insensitive. He was, after all, irresistible. And it would be understandable that she might have been a bit put out at his choice of Holiday over her.

"Holiday," he called to the holoimage, "I'm going upstairs for a bit."

"Of course, Theran. I'll just keep tinkering with the algorithms for this engine," she cooed before flashing out. She'd taken to nestling in the ship's onboard navigation computer when she wasn't playing with Theran.

Theran cleaned himself up, making sure he had no grease or dirt on his clothes or under his fingernails. He had an image to present, after all, he thought as he climbed the grated steps to the main drag of the ship. It was surprisingly quiet—then he remembered that the Consular had granted shore leave to the entire crew during the two day refueling/resupply/repair she'd scheduled at the Fleet. Zenith was off on Balmorra, presumably glaring at former traitors and threatening mass destruction. Qyzen had gone out—likely to hunt something down. Theran shuddered—he really was a pacifist at heart. He just kept ending up in situations where people ignored that and expected him to shoot them.

That left just he, Holiday and his fair Jedi aboard her ship. He was ensured, as much as he ever was, a moment of privacy to speak with his Jedi. Since the ship was becoming more crowded by the day, what with the bevy of ambassadors who had taken up residence aboard, privacy was to be a much-valued commodity. A quick search of the bridge yielded nothing. Nor did he find the fair Jedi in the galley or the conference room, though he did receive several odd looks from the assembled ambassadors. Finally he found her in the med bay.

He'd not gone on her last outing—she'd taken to bringing either Zenith or Qyzen on her adventures. Not that he missed the excitement, not at all. He understood her reasoning of needing firepower, especially since she'd become a more than competent healer in her own right. And to see her wincing as she wrapped her own ribs—he shook his head.

"Let me do that for you," he called, stepping into the medbay and into her personal space.

Mairre jumped a little, startled, and let out a small grunt of pain. "No need, Theran. The kolto is doing its work." She reached for her top, her breaths shallow.

Theran shook his head, clucking his tongue as he batted her smaller hands away. His fingers moved over the bandage, unwrapping it so that he could get a look at her injuries. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "You should have come to me."

She looked down and away, her arms crossed over her breast band, hiding herself from him. "After our conversation, I thought it best not to."

Theran's frown deepened as he cast his mind back. Had he, however unintentionally, told her that he wanted nothing to do with her? He sighed as he reviewed their conversations—he'd been told on more than one occasion that he was an insensitive prick, so it was a very real possibility. "Jedi." He guided her backwards, his hands coming to rest on her waist and lifting her onto the treatment bed that dominated the medbay. He was reminded that, even though she was a fearsome warrior in her own right, she was still small enough that he could lift her with ease. Fixing his sternest expression at her, he pulled out his handheld med scanner and flicked it on. "If I must insist that you come to me after each mission, I will. I will also transmit the fact to Qyzen and Zenith to ensure that my orders, as your medical officer, are followed."

Mairre's expression was thunderous as she sat on the medbed. "Really." Her tone said it all.

Theran nodded, his expression and tone equally placid as he reached into the drawer for the supplies he would need to treat her. She had two fractured ribs, was suffering from both dehydration and malnutrition, and a sprained knee. "Quite, Jedi."

Mairre huffed. "You know, Theran, I do have a name other than Jedi. People have even been known to call me by it," she drawled.

Theran frowned, looking up from drawing her boot and stocking from her foot. "Yes, Mairre, I am quite aware that you have a name." He proceeded to fold the skirt of her gown back so that he could see her knee. The flesh was tender—he could only imagine that she had been calling on the Force to be able to walk normally on it. Sometimes her hardiness amazed him—she was always willing to put herself in the line of fire…at trait he'd notice on Nar Shaddaa. "And I know that you are quite aware that you need to rest to properly heal from these injuries."

Mairre waved him off. "There's no time, Theran. There's never time." She stared off into space as Theran began wrapping her knee in the kolto dressing. It helped, it really did, but she ached to be away from this man. Ached to be back in her stateroom so that he wouldn't see how upset she was.

Theran sighed. "You've also not been eating or drinking properly, Mairre," he continued, moving to her ribcage. His hands, the pads slightly roughened from his work with chemicals and mechanicals, danced over her delicate skin as he smeared the kolto over the bruises which had bloomed at the broken ribs. He heard and felt her intake of breath as he rubbed the healing balm into her flesh—pausing a moment more than was absolutely necessary before he found the kolto bandages and began wrapping her ribcage.

Mairre sucked in a breath at the pressure. "Too tight," she gasped, her fingers fluttering at the bandages.

Theran nodded, loosening them a bit, making it easier for her to draw a full breath. "I'm putting you on bed rest," he announced, lifting her down from the medbed to allow her to stand beside the bed. He grabbed up her tunic, handing it back to her.

Mairre made no move to reach for it. Her expression was one he had difficulty reading and he puzzled once again if he had missed something. "What did I do wrong?"

Theran's frown returned and he stepped closer to Mairre. He leaned against the medbed, looking down at her. Puzzlement filled his blue-green eyes. "Why do you think that you did something wrong?" He felt he'd missed part of the conversation. It was all too real a possibility, he admitted to himself, since he often partook of conversation with only half an ear. "You have done nothing wrong, Mairre."

Mairre stared at the ground, her hands clasped in front of her. "Then why were you so nice to me? You made me feel so good that night and then, the next day, it's over?"

Theran's eyes widened as he, finally, saw the events of the past few days through someone's eyes other than his own. He had assumed, because she was so reserved and cautious in her conversations, that she had had no feelings for him. That she had seen their night together as a dalliance—a form of reward, as it were, for her ability to inspire him in his work. Had he really used her and then tossed her aside as if she were last week's trade journal? With grim realization he knew he had. "Because I am an idiot, Jedi."

Mairre lifted her gaze, tears forming in her green eyes. "You're one of the smartest men in the galaxy, Theran," she countered. "I just thought…" She trailed off, arms clutching her waist.

Theran shook his head. He had to make this right. For once he was glad that neither Zenith nor Qyzen were there—the sniper and the hunter would probably filet him for hurting Mairre, and rightfully so. "You thought that wouldn't behave like a complete nerf-herding bastard. And I have behaved like the worst cad in existence, my dear Mairre." He pulled her into his arms. "I am terrible with people. I am selfish and egotistical. I think first, and often only, of myself and my needs. And I have wronged you, my dear Jedi."

Mairre sniffled against Theran's chest but she made no effort to move away from him. "Does that mean that I didn't do it wrong?"

Theran gaped, staring down at the magnificent woman in his arms in horror. "Is that what you thought? That when we made love that you had done something wrong?"

Mairre nodded miserably into his chest.

Theran was once again glad that, aside from the droid and the ambassadors, that they were alone. "Mairre, you did nothing wrong. You were exceptional." He tilted her head back up so that she would meet his gaze. He leaned down, kissing the corners of her eyes and taking away the wetness of her tears. "You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing." His lips dipped lower, capturing her quivering mouth, in a searing kiss. "And I would be an idiot to let you go twice."

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